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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358225">like a desert waiting for the rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewsdaychillin/pseuds/chewsdaychillin'>chewsdaychillin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>upton house softness [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(its all vague as to what exactly is happening but, Canon Asexual Character, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Upton House (The Magnus Archives), hand stuff), jon is jus doling out love and then cuddling, so many neck kisses so many, soft waking up and soft sex in the soft national trust house, very much enthusiastic soft lovey consent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:46:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewsdaychillin/pseuds/chewsdaychillin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>'I'm so glad we stopped,’ Jon murmurs, adding, ‘don't tell me I don't have to be grateful,' upon reading Martin’s mind. No, never that. Just knowing him. ‘We came here to make me happy, and I am happy.’ He splays his hand out, pushing his fingers through soft hair. ‘I don't know about you but I feel like I'm being hit with about five months worth of endorphins.’ </em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>upton house softness [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>like a desert waiting for the rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is all very soft and like.. more than implied but very vague as to what exactly is going on beyond its hand stuff, so hc whatever u like! only thing explicitly said re gendered language is chest for both of them </p><p>ive tagged this w the canon ace character tag even tho it's not explicitly discussed/labeled, bc it comes up a bit more in this. they talk about it all beforehand and jon is very much this is about you and bc i want to be close w you i just want kisses. </p><p>i jus wanna say tho that all my stuff has always been written w jon being ace in mind! i jus never thought it was like... enough discussion of it to use the tag, but i might be going back and adding it since i know people like to know that the author wasnt ignoring canon like that </p><p>re the whole jon losing his memory and dissasociating or being out of it at upton house - it might come up in the last installment in this series but not here hes fine x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin is sure they’ve both almost drifted back off again after saying ten more minutes for the fourth time. He’s starving still, and thirsty, and more than a bit worried about the spider woman downstairs, but cuddled up here it all seems very far away. Drifting farther and farther away the longer he stays here in this dreamy fourposter with Jon’s arms around him. </p><p>He’s about to murmur some soft nonsense to that effect as his head starts its heavy fall to sleep. But then his stomach growls, loudly and petulantly. Jon laughs against his collar and Martin sighs. It's finally time to get up then. He rolls over reaching for anything that might have the time on it. </p><p>Time. There’s real time here. A clock on the bedside table tells him it’s 11:30. </p><p>‘I wonder if there's a butler,’ he muses, stroking Jon’s hair, ‘or if we just... Go find breakfast ourselves.’ </p><p>He feels Jon’s laugh vibrate against his skin. It melts into a few slow kisses and he hums when the cool air touches them. ‘Can't imagine a butler,’ Jon sighs. He wiggles closer again like he has no intention of fetching it for himself in the absence of one. </p><p>‘Are you kidding? Size of this house.’</p><p>‘You hate breakfast.’</p><p>Martin scoffs. Okay, that is true, but - ‘I haven't eaten in months, Jon, I'm bloody starving!’ </p><p>‘Ignore it,’ Jon tells him, shuffling further up onto his shoulder and burying himself firmly in Martin’s neck. ‘I'm comfy.’ </p><p>Martin tuts softly, amused every time by these antics. He’s going to protest as his stomach starts rumbling again, but Jon preempts him and goes back to kissing up his neck. The only sound he ends up making is a sigh, more awake than sleepy now, more interested than resigned. It really is cheeky of him, Martin thinks. He knows how much power he can wield with that mouth on that spot. Jon hums happily, his kisses turning longer, wetter, more into sucking in a way that makes Martin’s hand slide into his hair. </p><p>‘You’re very bad,’ he murmurs, scraping his nails lightly. </p><p>He’s expecting a pouting retort or some kind of protestation of innocence, but instead Jon’s hand is on his jaw and then his tongue is in Martin’s mouth and well, that’s a much nicer retort. </p><p>‘Alright,’ Martin manages to chuckle through the breath that's knocked out of him. He curls his fingers, liking the way a bit of grease gives him firm coils to clutch onto. They need to shower. Feels good though, always, pulling Jon closer to him. </p><p>The hand on his jaw goes wandering, stroking with a firm palm over his chest and stomach. </p><p>‘You know what else you haven't had in months?’ Jon asks lowly, kissing around Martin's mouth between words. </p><p>Martin blinks under the assault of kisses. It’s all a bit dizzying. ‘Huh?’ </p><p>Jon huffs, slides his hand more decisively downwards till his thumb clicks over the little button on Martin’s boxers. </p><p>‘Oh? Oh!’ Martin’s breath catches inevitably when he gets it. ‘You don't have-’</p><p>‘I know I don't have to,’ Jon finishes for him, not quite impatient but with that decided tone that doesn’t want to be babied. He moves his hand all the same, sighs as he slides it back up and settles it gently over the middle of Martin’s chest, under his T-shirt. ‘But I love you,’ he goes on, his matter of fact voice that somehow makes the sweet things sweeter. ‘And it’s so quiet here. We’ve got a chance, right? To do something human.’  </p><p>‘Getting me off is not a prerequisite to your humanity,’ Martin reminds him gently, a small smile creeping onto his face.</p><p>‘No,’ Jon agrees, ‘but you are. You are,’ he repeats with a few gentle pecks. ‘I want to be as close to you as physically possible.’</p><p>‘Yeah,’ Martin nods, swallowing feelings and a dry throat. ‘I get that.’  </p><p>Jon sees him getting soft, of course, snuggles in closer and inhales the the base of his neck. ‘I'm so glad we stopped,’ he murmurs, adding, ‘don't tell me I don't have to be grateful,' upon reading Martin’s mind. <em> No, never that. Just knowing him. </em> ‘We came here to make me happy, and I am happy.’ He splays his hand out, pushing his fingers through soft hair. ‘I don't know about you but I feel like I'm being hit with about five months worth of endorphins.’ </p><p>Martin chokes on a little laugh as he blinks back whatever is stirring in him. Something about the words and the setting and being safe. ‘Yeah I get that. I definitely get that.’ </p><p>Jon pushes himself up on his elbow, probably at something in Martin’s voice he’s not sure about. He checks a lot like this. Martin tries to look up at him honestly, even though said endorphins do feel a bit silly when there’s so much else to do. He knows his big, touched eyes probably aren't the most bedroom suitable. And his hair is just as in need of a wash. The ends are cracking. Jon exhales slowly through a little smile and comes down to peck his cheek very gently. </p><p>‘So that’s a yes?’ he asks again. </p><p>Martin blinks, nods, allows himself a moment of quiet sappiness. ‘Yes, love, please.’ </p><p>His hair is already lifting off the back of the pillow when Jon comes down to kiss him. He does that just as softly. It’s not the first time he’s done it - said <em> let’s have sex </em> and then been the most soft, affectionate, cuddly little thing they end up either just sleeping, just kissing, calling it off because Martin feels guilty about wanting it more than he does, or going all the way and having some of the most spectacularly emotional, intimate moments of Martin’s life. He thinks this time it might be the latter. So he pushes down guilt, with the logic and emotions of that very soft <em> yes,</em> and kisses back with as much feeling and a bit more tongue. The sound and the humming feeling of Jon sighing into his mouth is a very nice way to fade out of nearly crying and into whatever is going to come next.</p><p>Then the kisses move off his mouth and down again and the sappy part is properly over, he decides. He stretches his neck back and tries not to get too emotional about the light and the bed and having time for this. Time together. Just them and... well. </p><p>‘You know,’ he muses, ‘there's a very good chance The Web is listening to all this.’</p><p>Jon hums, kissing under his jaw and pushing at the hem of his shirt. ‘Then don’t be loud.’ </p><p>Martin scoffs as he lets it up over his head. ‘Human you is a cheeky bastard.’  </p><p>Jon grins as he bundles the fabric up and drops it over the side of the bed, and Martin can still feel him smiling when he kisses them back into the mattress. It’s <em> so </em>comfy here, in a bed for once, between the pillow and Jon’s mouth. He hums contentedly, settling down into the kisses pressed eagerly to his throat and under his collar. He's barely got one out however before it turns to a yelp as Jon's teeth nip at a freckle over his collarbone. </p><p>'Oi!' he gasps with a playful smack against Jon's shoulder. </p><p>When Jon looks up at him he's practically glaring, his cutest little scandalised frown that he does when somethings funny at his expense. It's the expression usually accompanied by his outraged, whiney <em> 'Martinnn' </em> which unfortunately for him never stops being a bit funny and more than a bit adorable. Martin can't not giggle at it. </p><p>'Sorry, just-' </p><p>Jon folds his arms firmly across Martin's chest. 'Will you stop laughing please, I'm trying to turn you on.' </p><p>He doesn't stop scowling but it's such an adorable expression and, honestly hot as it is, an adorable sentiment that Martin completely fails his request. The giggles have fully got him and the hiccups would probably have come soon after if Jon hadn't huffed and caught his mouth in a firm kiss to stop it. As much as it's petty in its determination, it is a damn good kiss and Martin stops laughing, melts into it, his palm sliding round the back of Jon's neck. when he comes up for air he's still smiling and Jon is still pouting at him. </p><p>Martin sighs, strokes his nape and the top of his shoulder. 'Jon,' he says seriously, though his cheeks are aching, 'I promise you don't have to try that hard.'</p><p>To prove the point he takes Jon's hands off his chest, helps him climb into his lap and lean back down for another kiss. This time the comfortable warmth pushes into something warmer with the push of tongues. Martin takes it in, relishing the soothing weight on top of him, and slides his hands round the soft of Jon's hips, letting them wander round the little dimples at the bottom of his spine.</p><p>'Let’s just go slowly, yeah?’ he says when they next come up for air. (Maybe a bit counterintuitively, since he’s a squeeze away from groping at this point.) ‘Not like we're in a rush.’</p><p>Jon hums in vague agreement but still sits up a bit to yank his own shirt off and drop it on the floor. He quirks his eyebrow - Martin has never been good at schooling his face away from saying what it wants to. ‘You said you were starving.'</p><p>‘Well, yeah,’ Martin stumbles, scoffs. </p><p>He doesn’t even bother trying to hide the places his eyes go, lets his hands follow them slowly and spread flat, all over Jon's chest, his stomach and scars. After a moment he slides them down, settles with his thumbs in the crease Jon’s hips make with his thighs. It’s warm there even through the fabric of his underwear. Martin lets his fingers roam around the hem and through the dark hair that scatters the skin beyond it. </p><p>It’s not like he <em> never </em> gets to see Jon’s legs when they sleep together and he insists on sleeping in a t-shirt and pants no matter how cold it is outside. It’s just that he really <em> likes </em>Jon’s legs, and the apocalypse hasn’t really been thighs out weather so far. So he thinks maybe a bit of ogling is forgivable. </p><p>‘That's before I knew this was on the cards,’ he says. Then, tearing his eyes up even as Jon shifts closer into his hands - ‘Hardly about to throw you off me, am I?’ </p><p>He probably sounded a bit huskier than he meant to. There’s a break then over some stupid line about <em>hungry for something else</em> or <em>a</em> <em>rare delicacy</em> or something or other. It’s unclear who came out with it first as they overlap and gently rag on each other for it. </p><p>Then one teasing kiss turns to a heavier one that has Martin’s hair rucking up on the pillow one moment and his neck stretching as Jon pulls him up, closer, two hands squeezing tight onto his cheeks the next. Jon means it now; his tongue is insistent, hot and probing as much as it’s stroking. The whole <em> not in a rush </em> thing is really starting to fade as arousal builds in earnest. Now past the routine <em> are you sure?s </em>and for once free of the constant danger round the corner, everything gets breathy very quickly. </p><p>‘I want you to want me,’ Jon whispers into the warm mingling air between their mouths. Walking the line as he somehow does between bossy and desperately needy. </p><p>‘I do,’ Martin promises him, filling both the opposites as he always does; reassuring and submitting. ‘I always do.’</p><p>‘I want you to need me.’ </p><p>Martin croaks a bit. ‘That's not going to be a tall order,’ he manages. </p><p>His attempt at balancing being encouraging with not wanting to give the game away comes out as a tortured groan that definitely gives the game away. If that wasn’t enough there's also the way his fingers have been roaming desperately and are now clinging to the fabric of Jon’s underwear, pulling it taut in a rush to get him closer. Jon goes with him, lets himself be tugged even closer with a deep sigh that rumbles through them both in another torturously slow kiss. </p><p>‘I want you to be desperate for me,’ he hisses on a sucked in breath as they both instinctively grind at the same time, ‘and then I want to show you just how much I love you with my hands.’ </p><p>‘God…’ Martin breathes. He half collapses back into the pillow, looking up in awe. ‘Did you pull that out of my head?’ </p><p>‘No,’ Jon says, pulling back a bit. He's frowning but honestly Martin can't tell how much is genuine confusion and how much is him playing coy. He knows very well what his voice can do when it isn't saying spooky things. But - 'No,' he repeats, 'I promised-' </p><p>‘I know,’ Martin reassures him quickly, cupping his face close, ‘I know, I'm kidding just-’ he breathes out again, closing his eyes through a wave of arousal. ‘Jesus Christ…’ </p><p>It doesn’t help feeling Jon’s mouth back against his neck, or the way things brush when he shuffles down to sit on his thighs. Or it does help. It’s good, really is and he’s breathing very heavily as he squashes his chin into his chest to watch hands trailing further down. That sight very much helps. </p><p>Jon keeps kissing until he's more than ready, and then slips wandering fingers under Maritn's waistband. Slowly, making his breathing shaky. Martin doesn't laugh this time when Jon kisses down his neck, sucking with maybe a bit too much teeth. Both their chests are heaving as kisses trail over Martin’s sternum. They both follow Jon’s gaze as he half rolls off and looks down to shimmy off the offending underwear. He looks for a moment more once it’s gone, breathing unsteady. He looks so intently Martin's almost about to be embarrassed about how barely and brazenly desperate he looks. Then Jon then glances back up to find Martin watching him and his mouth is open too. </p><p>Then he pushes his hand down. </p><p>It is generous and teasing all at once. Wandering gently and slowly everywhere, circling and thumbing until he finds the start of a rhythm that makes Martin keen and flap for his shoulder. Their hands end up clasped, sweaty and warm together as Martin whispers, 'there, that, do that again, please...' </p><p>He thinks one day it would be fun just to see if Jon would ever say no to him. Go on teasing and make him wait. It's not an unappealing prospect. But he's too giving to even contemplate that himself. He does what Martin asks him to earnestly, smiling and kissing the stretch in his neck and the soft under his chin. </p><p>'I love you,' he murmurs, squeezing Martin's hand. Then he unfurls their fingers for a moment, slinging Martin's arm around his waist and siding even closer. There isn't a point of skin chest to knee that isn't glued to each other. 'I forgot how beautiful you look like this.' </p><p>In a moment it will probably be a bit embarrassing the effect that can have - an earnest compliment in his love-soaked gorgeous voice. Martin screws his eyes tight as the moan leaks out. Then another careful twist of fingers has them flying open and he gasps right into Jon’s face peering down at him. He looks struck. Like he means it as much as he sounds, saying it like he’s noting it out loud rather than giving compliments out like platitudes. He strokes Martin’s hair back where it’s sticking to his forehead with ridiculous tenderness considering the gentle wreckage his other hand is wreaking. </p><p>It’s almost too much and Martin reaches for his hand again, brings it to his mouth with no idea really if he’s planning on kissing, biting, sucking. He just holds it there a moment as the next wave of shaking comes over him, worrying Jon’s knuckles against his lips as he gasps out for him. </p><p>‘<em>Shit shit shit shit, Jon, I-’ </em></p><p>Jon doesn’t shush him, never would, but the sound he makes is a comforting one. He moves both their hands away, sneakily freeing Martin’s mouth just as he starts to speed up his stroking fingers. It’s very unfair, Martin thinks dimly, but he doesn’t, <em> can’t </em>, hold in his whine as Jon pushes his hand into the mattress. </p><p>‘You’re close?’ </p><p>‘Yeah, god, just-’</p><p>Martin squeezes his hand back probably hard enough to hurt his fingers, the tendons straining out of his wrist. Their clasped fingers lift off the mussed up sheets as he comes over Jon’s hand with a silent shout that fades into a whimper he isn’t embarrassed about. </p><p>Jon brings their hands up to press kisses over Martin’s knuckles, the pad of his thumb, the knob of his wrist. Martin’s head sags back into the pillow as he watches, feeling like his heart might burst, and not just because it’s still thumping. Everything is warm. He catches Jon’s eyes over his sweaty hand, gold-rimmed in this fantasy gorgeous light and maple-wide, and it’s stupid not to be glued to him right now.  </p><p>He gives a little tug and Jon immediately collapses across his chest, nosing into hair like he’s trying to bury himself. He sighs again, and wipes his hand on his own shorts before curling it as tight round Martin's middle as he can get it. Maybe on another, less emotional day Martin would remind him he needs to breathe. He’s still just coming down from panting. But not today. Somehow coming down from feeling so incredibly loved in the moment only makes him keener to get closer, feel more loved, and cast out some of what he’s feeling in gratitude. He throws both arms over Jon’s shoulders and presses a whole host of kisses on his forehead and into his hair. </p><p>‘Do you want anything?’ he asks. </p><p>‘No,’ Jon shakes his head happily. Then he lifts his chin off Martin’s chest and shimmies up. ‘Actually, kiss me.’</p><p>‘Not a problem.’ </p><p>More kissing and more of those backed up endorphins flooding their systems means even longer in bed. Not quite sleeping, just cuddling silently, stroking fingertips over each other’s skin as it cools down. That gentle touch is as electric as passion. Easy, natural. Slight and everything. It is grounding, Martin thinks. Human. </p><p>Eventually though he has to move. He groans and makes half a move to sit up, petting Jon’s hair to ease the blow of taking his pillow from him. ‘I don't think I've needed a shower more. Like, in my entire life.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading as always uwuwuwuwuw love u all plwase commente in these trying times 4 my self esteem </p><p>im also still doing commissions and i have a kofi ! im not meant to link them here but <a href="https://babyyodablackwood.tumblr.com/post/630528010471211008/ao3-fic-commissions-kofi-i-am-offering-proof">here is</a> a link to the links </p><p>xx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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